The Desolate Shore

It was days like these that even Grandma had to question what exactly she was doing and how she had gotten into such an odd situation. She was currently sitting on the back of a donkey that was attempting to scramble the pair of them up the path to the lighthouse. Now, this donkey was of good quality and a fine stock, but even it had difficulty with a path this slippery and precarious, the wind and rain certainly weren’t helping it either. Did she have far easier ways of scaling this cliff at her disposal? Of course she did, but sometimes she wished for the “full experience” as she called it.

She had been traveling along the seaside in this rather dreary northern land, searching for rumors and tales that might peak her interest. For about the last three days she’d heard all kinds of tales, but most of them turned out to be either falsified entirely or greatly exaggerated. A monstrous creature that killed all that entered the woods, controlled by a powerful witch. Well, that had turned out to be nothing more than a trained brown bear that was domesticated by the local sage, the sage was far from malevolent and had even put on a pot of tea for Grandma!

There had been other tales with similarly anticlimactic outcomes, but then Grandma had heard of The Desolate Shore. Going entirely off of what she’d managed to piece together from the locals, this place was a magnet for shipwrecks and all the sailors who knew this area well stayed as far away from it as they could. What had truly gotten her attention was the fact a lighthouse had been built, but then promptly abandoned once all those who manned it were found to have killed themselves. Perhaps all of these things were just another set of odd coincidences that would unravel under Grandma’s scrutiny, but perhaps they were something more. Something worth investigating. And so, that is how Grandma found herself here, slowly making her way towards the desolate outline of the lighthouse.

Grandma glanced around the desolate lighthouse, turning her attention to her donkey a few moments after she finished surveying the lighthouse entrance. It looked rather cold, it even seemed to be shivering slightly. Well, Grandma had gotten up to the lighthouse the hard way, the purpose of doing so was to see anything out on the ordinary on the path up, something that hadn’t occurred. No need to leave the donkey or herself in discomfort from the rain.

Tapping her cane loudly on the floor, the sound echoed through the room, immediately followed by the splash of water against the already wet ground. All the water in Grandma’s clothing and the donkey’s coat had been expelled, water droplets sent showering to the floor. Raising her cane in front of her so the top of it was about eye level, a faint red orb of light gradually appeared above the purple gem that topped the cane.

Now aided with enough light to see a bit more properly, Grandma would take another look around the lighthouse entrance, looking for any objects of interest or signs of the living. She was also keeping an eye out for any trap doors, although she didn’t exactly expect to find any.

The room was exceptionally depressing even considering Grandma’s already low standards when it came to abandoned buildings. The question now was to either to ascend the stairs or head down the hatch… Best to go upwards first, she’d investigate the basement later. Perhaps she’d find hints about the people who lived here upstairs as that’s where she assumed the living quarters would be.

Her cane clicked on the floor as Grandma ascended the staircase, being cautious to watch for any signs of collapse. With how poor of a condition this building appeared to be in, she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the stairs gave way on her. For now, her goal was simply to continue searching for any objects of note or signs of what might have caused the previous caretakers here to throw themselves off the cliffs.

Grandma didn’t spend much time attempting to get Barnaby to go up the stairs, but his unwillingness to was useful information. There was clearly something in this place that deeply disturbed the creature for him to be unwilling to follow her.

The room on the second floor was in better condition than the other, but still rather shabby in Grandma’s opinion. For a moment, she considered lighting the fireplace, but decided against it, she wasn’t going to be spending too long hanging around in this room. That’s when she heard the whispers. Some might think they had just heard the wind, but Grandma had no reason to doubt her senses.

Was someone else in the building, perhaps travelers or a group of less civilized creatures had wandered into the lighthouse to take refuge from the rain. She was doubtful that was the origin of the whisper, this place looked far too undisturbed for that to be the case. Perhaps there were spirits about, maybe the spirits of those who had previously looked over this place or perhaps spirits of a more sinister kind…

Whatever it was, Grandma intended to find out. Moving forward towards the stairs, her steps more purposeful than before, one of the rings on Grandma’s hand began to glow with a faint, violet light.

As Grandma ascended the stairs, the whispering would continue. Among the muffed voices, Grandma would pick up on "visitor" and "not a keeper", but not much else. Barnaby could be heard downstairs, snuffling and looking for something to chew on.

The third floor appeared to be some sort of study, with a desk and shelves full of worn books. They held titles such as "An Inquisitive Mind's Guide to Seabirds, Third Edition", "Tides for Simpletons", and "A Quest for a Pearl: One Mermaid's Adventures With a Succubus and a Sea Captain". The third book in question seemed to be rather sticky, but the others seemed reasonably well-kept and not mildewed. The desk was locked, or perhaps stuck. In any case, the drawers wouldn't come open easily.

The worn desk drawers shook for a moment, before cracking and splintering around the locks. The drawers flew out of the desk, clattering against the wall and ground. Inside, Grandma would find a small glass bottle, stoppered with a cork and sealed with wax. It contained some mysterious amber liquid, without so much as a tag. Another drawer contained a folded sheet of paper, labeled "The Last Will And Testament Of Thomas Mark, Lighthouse Keeper". It too was sealed with wax, stamped with a lighthouse pattern.

As Grandma picked up the paper, the whispering grew louder, almost audible now. A cold wind seemed to blow through the lighthouse, even though all the windows were shuttered tight.